Loyal
by None the Wiser
Summary: Crossover with SVU. Blaine becomes the victim of a vicious attack, and Detective Olivia Benson becomes invested in his case while he and his fiance, Kurt, struggle with the aftermath of having his life torn to pieces.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own nor claim to own anything in relation to Glee nor Law and Order SVU. If you recognize anything, it's not mine.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Why, hello! So…I haven't written fanfic in about a hundred years, so I'm a little out of practice. Be gentle. Also, this is the first thing for Glee that I've ever written, so I apologize if everyone's a teeny bit OOC. Now, in this story, I'd say timeline in Glee is pretty much canon even to season 5, with maybe a couple tiny changes (like how in one episode Kurt actually mentions SVU as a TV show…yeah, pretending that never happened), but I'm not all caught up on SVU, so I'm pretending that Cragen is still the Captain and Liv hasn't been promoted yet, but Rollins and Amaro are here.

Reviews and constructive criticism would be much appreciated, please and thank you!

**LOYAL**

**Chapter 1**

The Spotlight Diner was unusually packed tonight. People were everywhere, singing and clapping along with the waitstaff's spontaneous and perfectly choreographed Broadway version of "School is Out" by Gary US Bonds. Blaine Anderson knew it was because the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts had just concluded final exams, performances and recitals for the year, and as a NYADA student himself, he too was celebrating being relieved of student duties for the summer.

He was currently sat at the bar on one of the red, squishy, 50's diner style barstools. He had a glass of soda and a red basket lined with red and white checkered wax paper filled with french fries in front of him. He was staring at his beautiful fiancé, Kurt Hummel, dressed in his black and red waiter uniform, who was on the stage and had just concluded the song with the rest of his coworkers. He clapped along with the crowd and blew a kiss to him before turning back to his snack.

He took a sip of his Coke, and had just placed it back on the bar before he noticed someone take a seat in the open barstool next to him. He looked up and noticed a fellow student of his, Damon Aurelia. He was a handsome gentleman, tall and built with short blonde hair and deep brown eyes. If Blaine remembered correctly he was a junior, and had been a TA for his Introduction to Dramatic Improvisation class. He never really talked much, but he seemed nice.

"Oh, hey, Damon," Blaine said. "How are you? All of your finals go well?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'well,'" Damon quipped.

Blaine chuckled in response. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds about right."

Damon laughed at that. "To answer your question, I think I did okay. May have been a little pitchy during my vocal recital, but other than that, I can't complain too much."

Blaine nodded. "Nice. Same here…well, except for Drama Improv. I had no idea what I was doing and I don't think Professor Mendez appreciated my Katy Perry references. He seems like a Lady Gaga type to me and he may have been a little biased."

Damon guffawed at that, and then smacked Blaine's arm lightly. "Don't say that! I'm sure you did fine. In class you always seemed like you knew what was up. Well, at least to me you did."

"Aww, thanks! That actually makes me feel a lot better," Blaine told him.

"Hey, I'm just being honest, especially for someone as talented as you. I wouldn't lie about that," Damon said. He had actually leaned a little bit closer, and it wasn't until then that Blaine noticed that he had yet to remove his hand from his arm. He scrunched his eyebrows upon discovering that, and he started to get an uncomfortable tingling in his gut.

"Yeah, uh, didn't think you would," Blaine said, awkwardly.

Damon then started lightly rubbing his hand along the grey cashmere sweater on Blaine's arm. "So, any fun plans for the summer? If not, I can tell you all about some great things to do while in New York. It's a fantastic time to be in the big city."

"Um," Blaine paused. The tingling in his stomach increased tenfold. He was sure the guy was hitting on him, but he didn't know him that well at all. Maybe he was just a super touchy-feely person and Blaine told himself that he shouldn't make assumptions about people. _Assumptions make an ass out of you and me, right?_ He thought.

Thankfully, he was saved by a slightly sweaty, but beautiful brown hair still perfectly coiffed Kurt Hummel, who had just returned to work behind the bar, his bright blue-green eyes sparkling. "Hey, cutie. What'd you think?"

That was all it took for Blaine to forget about the guy sitting next to him who may or may not have been making a pass at him, and turned to the man that he was going to spend the rest of his life with to grin up at him. He reached out and took Kurt's left hand that had been resting on the bar and began to stroke the platinum band that adorned his ring finger. "Gary US Bonds. Definitely not in your usual repertoire," Blaine pointed out. "You've never seemed like the rhythm and blues type, and yet you managed to pull it off. I'm pleasantly surprised."

"Well, we did turn it Broadway a bit, but I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. And hey, I resent that. I know that's not my normal thing, but I'm well aware that you know I'm versatile, and that I can pull many things off," Kurt snarked, sexily raising an eyebrow at him.

And now Blaine was a little bit turned on. Kurt did that to him sometimes. "Ugh, you suck," Blaine told him.

"Yeah, I do," Kurt joked, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

Blaine laughed aloud at that, both happily annoyed and charmed by his fiancé. "Stop it," he commanded, though he was still smiling and leaned forward to give his man a quick peck on the cheek.

Kurt smiled at that and brought his other hand up to stroke Blaine's face. They just stared at each other for a moment, hazel and blue-green glowing with pure, unadulterated adoration. "I have something for you," Kurt told him, breaking the moment.

Blaine grinned at him anyway, still rubbing Kurt's hand with his thumb. "What's that?"

"Hold on," Kurt told him, and walked from behind the bar and up next to his fiancé. "I know I said I didn't really have the time and that I was extremely busy, but I may have lied a little bit. Though, now that we're done for the summer, I can do this for you."

Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's hands with his own. "Blaine, you are the most wonderful man I have ever met. You made me feel safe when the world made me feel otherwise, you made me feel loved when I felt lonely and isolated, and you made me happy. You make me so happy. I will never meet anyone one else like you, and I would love nothing more than for you to feel the same way that I do. I want you to feel safe, and loved, and happy, and I want to be the person to do that for you forever."

Blaine brought a hand up to cover his mouth as Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out a navy velvet box, and opened it to reveal a matching band to his own.

At this point, Blaine was feeling the tears beginning to gather behind his eyes. He was shocked by his fiancé's boldness. He knew Kurt was a romantic, but never would he ever have expected him to do something like this for him. Kurt may have been a performer, but when it came to their relationship, he was generally very private, sometimes even to the point when he wouldn't even hold his hand in public.

Kurt got down on a knee before asking, "Blaine Devon Anderson, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

It was at this point, when Blaine nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, that a couple tears finally escaped and traveled down his face. He stood as his future husband rose from the ground and began to remove the ring from the box to put it on Blaine's left ring finger. "Of course, I will, silly. You're doing this as if I haven't already told you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Well, you know me," Kurt shrugged. "I'm a drama queen. I like to put on a good show. And you, sir, are also quite the romantic, if I remember correctly, so I figured you'd like this, too," Kurt explained as he finally fit the ring onto Blaine's finger.

"I do," Blaine confirmed as he took a second to stare down at the shiny new platinum band that seemed very comfortable and at home on Blaine. He looked back up to Kurt, his eyes glowing so brightly and the most spectacularly happy grin on his face. "Thank you, baby," he said as he brought his arms around Kurt's neck to embrace his fiancé.

"I love you," Kurt told him, wrapping his arms around the shorter man's waist.

"I love you more," Blaine responded.

It was just in that moment when they finally realized that the patrons of the diner were cheering very loudly for them. They both chuckled and briefly pulled apart to look around. Yep, they definitely had put on quite the show. They looked back to each other and laughed before giving each other a big smooch on the lips.

"Fags," Blaine heard from his left, and as soon as he did, he ripped his lips from Kurt's to glare angrily at the tall, beefy guy nearby.

"Really?!" Blaine shouted at him, pissed off to all hell that this beautiful moment with his perfect man had been ruined by some homophobic doucheface. "You come to a 50's style, Broadway musical theater diner in New York City and you didn't expect to run into any gays here?! Are you kidding me?! What is wrong with you?!"

The brown haired, brown eyed dudebro looked annoyed and disgusted, but sufficiently chastised, and did not respond.

"You know, if you don't like it, you can leave!" Blaine told him, his voice still raised.

Dudebro just rolled his eyes, turned away from them and walked off. They probably wouldn't be seeing him again after tonight.

Blaine turned back to his fiancé and saw a proud gleam in his eyes. "Sorry about that, got a little carried away."

"That was very brave of you, sweetheart. I love that you can still stand up for yourself like that. Stand up for us like that," Kurt told him.

"But I probably just cost you some business," Blaine looked down regretfully. "It's not my place to kick someone out and cause a scene."

"Sure it is, if they're being an ass," Kurt said. "Besides, we don't want his kind here anyway. No one needs to be exposed to that kind of lifestyle."

Blaine chuckled in response. "I guess you're right."

Kurt embraced his future spouse again. It took him a second, among all of the hullaballoo that had just been going on, but he finally realized that the guy who was sitting next to Blaine had disappeared. "Hey, where's that guy you were talking to?"

Stunned by Kurt's inquiry, he looked at the stool in which Damon had been sitting, and noticed that it was no longer occupied. "Damon? I dunno. Maybe he went to the bathroom or something. Good thing, too, he was starting to weird me out with the touching."

"Yeah, what was that?" Kurt wondered.

Blaine shrugged. "Beats me. We've never really talked all that much, but I figured he knew about you, so I don't really understand why he'd make a move, if he was even making a move at all."

"Oh, he was certainly making a move," Kurt said, the overprotective green eyed monster growling in his voice a little bit. "That was the biggest move I've seen since Edward peeked in on Bella while she was sleeping."

"That's creepy," Blaine responded.

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Though, he was probably hitting on you just because you look so cute when you're staring at me like you were."

Blaine rolled his eyes and grinned at that. "Yes, that must be it," he commented sarcastically.

The two men stared at each other for a moment longer before Kurt looked around to see the diner had finally calmed down after the performance and the counterproposal that Kurt had given. He sighed. "I should probably get back to work now."

Blaine nodded. "You should. And I should probably pay for my stuff take off. I have an early meeting with June. I'll need sleep and lots of it."

Kurt sighed. "Okay," he said. "And don't worry about that, babe. It's on me tonight."

"Kurt," Blaine grumbled.

"Relax, sweetheart, it's fine. You can buy me dinner next time."

Now it was Blaine's turn to sigh. "Fine."

Kurt gave him one last peck on the lips before turning around to return to his assigned place behind the bar. "I'll see you at home, okay?"

Blaine nodded and waved at his fiancé before approaching the front doorway to the diner and opening it. He then began the trek to his and Kurt's shared apartment in the cool New York summer atmosphere.

He actually sort of liked that he didn't really need a car in New York. He enjoyed the bit of exercise that walking provided. It also gave him time to think, whether it be about ideas for his next showcase, a song idea, schoolwork, or even plans for the wedding.

At the moment, he was thinking about the showcase he was performing in next month. June had mentioned that there would be some sort of theme, but never told him what it was. He would find out at the meeting, which meant that anything that he thought of right now would probably be completely irrelevant. The elder socialite definitely was not on the same wavelength as the young, Top 40 type, dapper gentleman that Blaine was, and he figured neither was the audience. No matter, he would still probably enjoy it, even if it were something utterly ridiculous like The Who meets Ginger Rodgers. Actually, that sounded kind cool, now that he thought of it.

He wondered if maybe he could pull off anything by Barry White. That thought was immediately thrown out because holy good god, did he not think he had the voice for that. Perhaps he should just do a jazz or pop version of "Helter Skelter." He had always been a huge fan of the Beatles, but perhaps maybe the socialites he performed for would not like the harder version that was originally created by the quartet. Or he could even just perform a solo version of "All My Loving," that song seemed like it was the right style for his audience and he knew he could pull that one off very well. Heck, maybe he could even convince Kurt to duet with him on that one. _Wait,_ Blaine thought, _that was something that you wanted to do with him at your wedding, remember?_

And it was with that thought, a with a happy, glowing smile on his face, that he felt a heavy, crushing pain exploding from the back of his head.

************  
>AN: I deeply apologize for all of the cheesy sappy grossness, I just really wanted Blaine to get his ring. And sorry for the OOC-ness. Keep in mind, first Glee fic. Also sorry for the cliffhanger, that's kinda my trademark. I like shit like that. Reviews please?

Preemptive trigger warning: NEXT CHAPTER IS POTENTIALLY SUPER TRIGGERY SO BE CAREFUL. There will be a massive trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter, as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not claim to own anything that you recognize, whether it be in SVU or Glee.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING! HOLY DEAR SWEET FREAKING CHRIST THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING! PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES POST SEXUAL ASSAULT SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL IF THIS WILL AFFECT YOU IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM PLEASE!_

Also, I again apologize for the characters seeming like they are a little OOC. Still not as used to Amaro, Barba and Rollins as I am with the rest of them. Also again, I know that Cragen is not on the show anymore, but I haven't really seen much of SVU without him, so bare with me/with him being in the story. Reviews would be awesome, please. Thanks!

**Chapter 2**

"Cheers, everyone!" Captain Donald Cragen lifted his glass in celebration. "Well done."

"Cheers!" The crew responded, each clinking their glasses against the bald captains' own. Detectives Amaro, Rollins,Tutuola, and Benson each took a sip of their beverages and plunked their drinks back down on the bar, each with satisfactory grins on their faces.

It was not very often that they could do this, what with the type of work they do and all the shit they see everyday. Being able to be together in one place that didn't involve someone's life being tragically ruined was a rarity, and when it involved some asshole actually paying for what he did was a real treat.

So here they all were, in some darkened dive bar near Broadway, after many many nights with no sleep, too much caffeine, leads that went nowhere, and a finally closed case. Detective Olivia Benson sat on a black wooden barstool nursing a merlot, the Captain sitting next to her with his glass of water while the guys and Rollins stood around them, each with their signature brewskis.

Rollins leaned against the bar next to Liv and brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulder. "So, Detective, now with that one all done and over with, and you pretty much on lead with everything, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Liv chuckled, though without much humor. "I'm just glad the good guys won this time. It sucks that this doesn't happen as often as it should."

Amanda grinned sadly. "Well, we could get into all the reasons why, but I'm pretty sure that that would take all night and, not to mention, ruin the taste of my beer."

"And we certainly can't have that now, can we?"

"Absolutely not," Rollins responded, which got an actual laugh from the darker haired detective.

The evening continued as such, with little shop talk, a couple drinks, and some laughter, before everyone decided that it was time to take off.

"See you tomorrow!" Liv called out, waving to the rest of her team as they all split off into their designated destinations or vehicles. She heard and saw each of their responses before turning around.

On the walk back to her place, Liv got trapped in her mind, the case they had just closed in her thoughts. A poor teenage girl had somehow gotten into a college party and had been sexually assaulted. Sure, the case panned out how it should, with video and pictures to boot, however the girl's life had now been ruined regardless of the outcome. Many of her friends had turned on her, asserting that she shouldn't have been there in the first place, drinking. Her parents punished her for attending said party, when Liv believed that being raped had been punishment enough. The video and pictures were all over the internet, and the rest of the world called her a slut. Maybe it was a "win," as the captain and the rest of the squad called it, but to Liv, it didn't necessarily feel like one.

Olivia was then pulled from her internal ramblings with a crash and a grunt coming from the alleyway to her left. She turned towards the noise and down the alley she saw a man had collapsed near a dumpster and had fallen to his side. It was somewhat dark, but the sides of the buildings had florescent lighting imprisoned behind wire, so she could actually see the figure curled up on himself. She could tell from his nice, torn up clothing that he wasn't homeless, and from the sounds that were coming from him, he seemed to be in pain.

This man was in trouble.

She approached quickly but cautiously, noticing that he was actually quite young, and very stylish, too, if his completely gelled dark hair and his gray cashmere sweater that was ripped right down the middle had anything to say about that. She reached into her pocket for the cell phone she would have to use. "Hey," she said gently, as to not startle him, and knelt down next to him. "Hey, sir. Sir, are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?"

But she knew. She could tell. The young gentleman's nice pair of black slacks and boxer briefs were down to his knees, there were bruises all over his lower half, and there was blood dripping down him. His knuckles and face, too, had some cuts, and he looked to be gaining a nice shiner underneath both of his eyes. She looked to his exposed torso, also riddled with bruises, and Liv couldn't really tell as blood was leaking down from it, but it looked as if someone had slashed the word "fag" over his heart.

"Oh, God."

Olivia had stumbled upon a hate crime.

Shit.

The man had yet to respond, the only sound coming from him whimpering grunts, and he seemed to shy away from her approach. Well, he certainly didn't trust her yet.

Liv tried again. "Sir, my name is Olivia Benson, I'm a detective with the New York Police Department," she told him, pulling out her badge and moving it to his field of vision. She saw him observe it, and he sighed and nodded, relaxing slightly.

She nodded in response. Good, he trusted her now, at least a little bit. "Can you tell me your name, sweetie?" she asked him softly.

"Bl-Blaine," he managed to get out in a sobbing grunt.

Liv nodded again. Now they were getting somewhere. "Okay, Blaine, can you tell me who did this to you?"

He shook his head. "I-I don't know. I n-never really saw his face," he whimpered. "H-he was wearing a h-hood, and his f-face was covered by a s-scarf or a ski mask or s-something."

Perp was male. Ok. She could work with that.

She could tell he was having problems breathing and the boy looked like he was very close to passing out. Liv finally pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1. "Blaine, I need you to stay with me. I'm just going to call an ambulance, alright?"

He nodded, his breath still staggered. She turned away, bringing her phone up to her ear. "Dispatch, this is Detective Olivia Benson, badge number 4015. I need a bus and squad units on Broadway and 5th Ave. I also need SVU, I've got a 10-22 sexual assault. Victim is male, approximately 20 years old, and it looks like it could be a hate crime. Over."

"10-4, copy that, Detective, over and out," the dispatcher responded.

Liv ended the call and returned to her spot crouched next to Blaine. He looked like he was shivering, so Liv took off her black blazer and covered his lower region up, not caring that it would now be evidence. He flinched for a second, but then latched onto it, seeking any comfort he could.

"Blaine," Olivia beckoned quietly. "I need you to stay awake, okay? What can you tell me about who attacked you? Did he have any tattoos? A distinct smell? Height? Weight?"

Blaine struggled to sit up, and groaned at the stabbing pain shooting down his side. Olivia reached out to help him, assisting him in leaning against the dumpster. Blaine finally looked up to her, her caring brown eyes peering down at him. Her kind, oval face and gentle voice calmed him somewhat, and the soft hand on his shoulder finally made him realize she wasn't going to hurt him.

He exhaled, and she felt some of the tension in his body leave.

Good. He trusted her more now.

He just stared at her, looking as if he were hoping that this guardian angel who came to him in nightmares that he never even thought about wouldn't disappear before him. He started as if he just remembered that she had asked him something. "Um," he stuttered, his breathing labored. "He…was bigger than me. Taller, p-probably weighed more, too. Um, I d-didn't see any tattoos or scars or anything, but he, uh, he smelled a little like, uh, kinda like too much cologne or something. That fake terrible shit that freshman high school boys wear. Made me wanna puke. I dunno. It's all really fuzzy right now."

"Okay, okay," Olivia nodded, her voice still soft. "Did you see which way he went?"

Blaine shook his head. "No. I was f-facing the other way and d-didn't even think to look up."

"Do you know where he came from? Was he following you?"

Again, Blaine shook his head, clutching the blazer covering him. "I-I don't know," He whimpered. "I don't know if he was following me. He must've been, though, right? H-he hit me from behind, I-I never saw it coming."

Olivia took a deep breath and opened her mouth to ask another question, but the young man in front of her interrupted her. "Though, I guess maybe I should have," he said in a near whisper.

The detective scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "Why do you say that, Blaine?"

Blaine gulped before responding. "This isn't the first time someone's beat the shit outta me," he said, dejectedly. He sighed out a sob. "And it certainly isn't the first time someone's called me a fag," he added, glancing down at the slur carved into his chest, the crimson of his blood shining from the florescent lights against his olive skin tone, still dripping downward, before he completely broke down in tears.

Olivia sighed. The poor boy. She reached with her other hand to grab one of his while he brought the other one up to cover his eyes as he cried, and that was how they remained before they could hear the sirens and see the blue and red flashing lights.

It was going to be a long night for them.

**********  
><strong>AN:** I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. You cannot possibly hate me more than I hate myself right now.

I'm sorry.

Review anyway please?


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** Glee nor SVU belongs to me, sadly.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _**TRIGGER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS RAPE IN IT AND HAS A RAPE KIT EXAM BE CAREFUL TREAD LIGHTLY! TRIGGER WARNING!**_

*waves* HULLO! Thank you if you checked this out before and are back, and thank you even more to the people who reviewed. I would like more though, please! It's my first time in the Glee fanfic world and it has been a while since I've been in the SVU fanfic world. Lemme know how I'm doing, guys! REVIEWS WOULD BE AWESOME PLEASE KTHANKSBI!

**Chapter 3**

Olivia stared at the poor boy, arms crossed over and curling into himself, as if he were trying to make himself invisible. Make it seem like he was not actually there. Because dear lord, the young man really looked like he did not want to be there. He looked like he did not want to be anywhere at all, for that matter. Not to mention, he was also probably in a lot of pain, and trying not to exist would equate to making the pain disappear. Make everything disappear.

She knew what that was like.

He was clad in the standard hospital exam paper gown, tinged with blue and had white lining, the white straps tied behind him. He had yet to say a word since the medics had arrived. Liv had expected that.

It wasn't every day that one went through something so traumatic that it left them numb. Blaine was no exception.

She told him she would stay with him throughout the examination, so he might have a friendly face to be there while he had to relive the worst night of his life. He may have been silent in his approval, but she saw from his misty, scared, hazel eyes that he had been grateful. She couldn't have left him alone even if she had wanted to.

The door to the exam room opened and a nurse walked in. She introduced herself as Nurse Jordan, but Liv could tell that all he noticed was the white box with blue writing that she was carrying in her hands. As the nurse set it on a metal tray table and sat down in front of Blaine, Olivia could see him begin to tremble more. He continued to stare at the rape kit, and it looked like he had stopped breathing.

Blaine needed to calm down, but he wasn't going to without help.

She stood and scooted the chair closer to him. She wanted him to know that she was there, but she did not want to startle him. "Blaine," she whispered.

No response.

"Blaine," she tried again, and this time he flinched, but looked over to her with a gasp. She gently put a hand on his shoulder, and was glad when he did not retreat back to panic mode when she did. "You're going to be fine. I know that having to go through this sucks, but I think it'll be worth it down the line, okay?"

He nodded.

"Just try and relax," the nurse told him. "And I'll try and make this go by as quickly as I can."

Blaine looked towards the nurse, gulped and nodded his head.

Once the nurse began to touch him, Liv noticed that he had checked out again. While Nurse Jordan was pulling out swabs and taking pictures and samples, Blaine's eyes were glazed over, blind to the world. He remained quiet, only softly hissing when the nurse poked and prodded at his badly bruised ribcage.

When the nurse lifted his right arm to take fingernail scrapings, Liv could see gashes and blood upon his knuckles.

Defensive wounds.

"Looks like you fought back," Liv pointed out to him, and he looked up at her, confusion in his brow. She glanced down to his hand. "Marks on your hand show that you put up a fight. You may have gotten a piece of him, Blaine. That's really good. Really helpful."

He shrugged and then nodded before looking back down and speaking his first words since the alley. "I took up boxing after I got beat up the first time," he told her. "Wanted to be prepared in case it happened again."

Get him talking. Help get his mind from this. That was something else she could do. Something she should do. "When did that happen?"

"I was fourteen," Blaine began. "I went to a Sadie Hawkins dance with one of my friends and a few of the jocks thought it would be fun to beat the shit out of us while we were waiting for his dad. Transferred to a different school after that; one where they had a zero tolerance policy for bullying."

Fourteen. That was so young. So young to nearly be murdered just for existing. "I'm so sorry, Blaine," she said to him.

He shrugged again. "It all turned out fine in the end," he assured her.

The nurse then instructed him to lay down, and proceeded to prep him for the worst part of the exam. "You're going to feel a little pressure," she informed him, and he nodded blankly.

Liv moved to sit towards his head, and she really wanted and needed to distract him now, so he could at least partially ignore the pain. She spotted the shining band on his left ring finger and went from there.

"Tell me about your husband, Blaine," she asked him.

He looked up to her in confusion once more and shook his head. "Husband? What? No, I'm not…"

Liv immediately felt terrible. GOD, after working in the field that she had been working in for so long, she should know better than to assume things about people. She definitely should not assume someone is gay just because of a terrible, terrible word. _What was that phrase about you and me and asses?_ She wondered to herself. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I guess I just figured with the…" she gestured to his upper torso, "I thought you were gay."

Blaine started for a second. "Oh, no, I am. Very, very much so. I just, we're not married yet…" He groaned uncomfortably as the nurse continued her internal exam. "That hurts," he cried.

"I know. It'll be over soon," Liv told him and squeezed his arm. "Just talk to me. Tell me about your fiancé," she instructed.

"Um," Blaine started, still clearly uncomfortable and on the verge of tears. "His name is Kurt. We, uh, we met in high school. We did glee club together. We both go to NYADA. And, um, he's the love of my life."

A tear finally dripped down his face as the nurse finally finished her examination, penning something onto the last sample container. She told him that he could sit up now as she moved from between him to put the sample into the rape kit.

"The doctor will be in shortly to wrap up your ribs and tend to your other injuries," the nurse told him gently as she stood. "Do you want to call someone before that?"

"Um," Blaine began as he finally sat back up, wiping his eyes and sniffling. "My fiancé. He, uh, he's on graveyard tonight, so he might not answer his cell phone."

"If you know his work number, I can call him for you," Liv told him.

Blaine looked over to her, water flooding his eyes again. "Thank you," he whimpered out. "I just…I really need him right now."

Liv nodded as she pulled out her phone, typing in the digits as he said them aloud and brought her phone up to her ear.

* * *

><p>Kurt was wiping down the bar with a white rag wet from sanitizer and barely paying attention to anything that his blonde haired, dorky friend, Sam, was saying. He was probably talking about some hot chick that he saw on the subway, or some Star Wars fanfiction the he and Blaine were reading together. Honestly, he loved his friend, but at this point he could've been talking about Hollywood gossip and Kurt couldn't bring himself to care. There were so many things on his mind right now; with school being over for the summer, working non stop even though he had had exams and finally being able to give Blaine his ring, he was not in the right frame of mind to hear about some girl's breasts or about Han Solo and Luke Skywalker getting it on.<p>

"And so then she was all like, 'My boyfriend wants to get to know you before we do anything,' and then I just freaked out because what the hell, ya know?"

Kurt finally turned back to his friend, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "I'm sorry, she what now? She has a boyfriend and didn't even tell you?"

"That's what I was like, dude," Sam told him. "Apparently, he's okay with her hooking up with other guys or something. Weird, right?"

Kurt shrugged. "You know what, good for them," He decided as he turned to some sugar canisters to fill them up. "It must take a lot to be able to have that many relationships and zero jealous streak. You gonna hook up with her?"

Sam gaped at him, as if the thought never even occurred to him. "Dude, she has a boyfriend," Sam explained, as if Kurt were a two year old that didn't understand the concept of one plus one equaling two.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "So? You just said her boyfriend was okay with it, so why wouldn't you-"

"Kurt!" a voice called from behind him. Kurt turned around and saw his manager, Gunther, poking his head out from his office. "You got a phone call."

Kurt turned to Sam, his eyes scrunched in confusion, before shrugging and moving towards the manager's office. No one called him at the diner. There was no reason to, he was working. In fact, most people just texted him when he was there, even his employers at the Vogue offices.

This of course meant that either someone was soliciting him, or something bad had happened.

He never thought that he would want a solicitor to be begging for his attention, but at the moment, that was all that he hoped for.

Kurt entered the florescent lit room and glanced at the bulky, black landline telephone laying face down on the white, unorganized desk before picking it up and placing it against his ear. "Hello?" he greeted uncertainly.

"Kurt Hummel?" a female voice questioned on the other end.

"Speaking," he replied, voice still unsure and confused. "How can I help you?"

"My name is Detective Olivia Benson, I'm with the New York Police Department," she told him, and immediately afterward Kurt felt his stomach and heart drop. His throat closed up and he couldn't breathe.

_Blaine._

_No. No, not Blaine._

"Is…is Blaine okay?" he managed to get out, voice heavy and filled with resignation, as if he just knew that he would never see his love again.

"He's…he'll be fine," the police lady told him.

He let out a desperate and relieved sigh, closing his eyes as a tear escaped from one of them, and clutching his chest as his heart raced within him. "What happened? Where is he?"

"We're at New York Presbyterian. He…was assaulted and badly beaten."

He knew what that meant. It meant Blaine had been gay bashed.

_Oh, god._

Kurt remembered what that was like, having men nearly twice his size pounding his face in, pain shooting through his whole body, and being terrified that he would die alone in an alleyway and no one would ever notice him there. His poor love had already gone through something like that, why did this have to happen to him? Again?

Why did this have to keep happening at all?

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he told her.

"Okay, I'll stay with Blaine for now, Mr. Hummel."

"Thank you," he said as he hung up the phone, eyes wide and still a little bit wet. He was stunned. Shocked. How could this happen? Why was this happening again? This had just happened to him months ago! Would the homophobes of New York ever STOP? Did they ever rest?

Kurt couldn't think about that right now, he had a hospitalized fiancé to get to. He shook his head, took a deep breath and left the office.

The very second Gunther saw Kurt's face, he sighed, gestured with his head towards the door and said, "Go."

"Thank you," breathed out before booking it out of the diner and to New York Presbyterian.

* * *

><p>AN: Again, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Like, times a million.

I would like reviews, please, if you would. That'd be nice and awesome and I would love you forever and give you free snuggles!


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own SVU and I sometimes wish I owned Glee, but alas I do not.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: **_THIS IS ANOTHER TRIGGER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER DETAILS THE EVENTS OF BLAINE'S SEXUAL ASSAULT, SO THREAD LIGHTLY PLEASE BE CAREFUL YADA YADA YADA! _**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited or even just viewed last time. I'M SORRY FOR BEING BAD AT UPDATING! I suck sometimes, I know. Reviews might help, though, as it lets me know how I'm doing and it keeps me going!

Also, keep in mind that all of this is happening before season 6 even started, so, yeah, forget about that shiz.

Thanks very much and enjoy this next chapter!

**Chapter 4**

Blaine stared down at the blue tinged paper gown he was wearing, without even realizing that he was crumpling part of it with his right hand. He didn't feel present. He didn't really feel like he was anywhere. He wasn't grounded. He felt hollow, like someone had ripped out his consciousness of everything, and he was merely existing as a structure, as an organic machine with no thoughts or feelings or…soul. His mind was adrift, buoyant in a sea of uncertainty.

His body was there, but Blaine was not.

On the ambulance ride to the hospital, he had stared at the bright ceiling of the vehicle, lit by the florescent bulbs, with the medic tending to him and the kind detective sitting next to him. Blaine felt like someone had put a glass barrier over his head. Everything had been muffled. Muted. The medic was asking him basic and random questions, and he responded automatically, not really hearing the questions, his voice monotone and quiet. The detective and the medic spoke as well, but it was just mumbling. Ambient noise in the background. The white static of the television after the VHS was over.

The grey, wool blanket that had covered him didn't do much to stop the shivering, which was weird because he didn't feel cold. He couldn't feel, and he wasn't really thinking about anything either. He was just sort of…blank. He was an artist's canvas before they could paint on him. Or a stone in a cave before scribes had carved upon it. There wasn't anything to him.

At that moment, he had felt like a ghost. Nonexistent.

He felt like nothing.

That feeling had only increased when he changed into the exam gown and sat upon the table, preparing to be poked and prodded. Experimented on like a lab rat.

God, he so wished this wasn't his life right now.

But it didn't really matter because he wasn't really there.

They were still waiting for the doctor to come in and attend to his injuries. The nice lady detective, Olivia, was sitting in a chair next to the table. She had been kind enough to offer to remain with him throughout his exam, even though she most likely had about 500 other things to do. She certainly didn't need to hang around him during the most miserable part of his life. She probably needed him to tell her what happened. That was her job, right? Gather evidence? Talk to witnesses? To catch the bad guy? She was going to have to hear the events from that night if she was going to do that.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and sniffled. He really did not want those images running through his mind, but they came forth like a geyser. "I was visiting my fiancé at the Spotlight Diner. He had just given me my ring before I left and, uh, I f-felt something smashing the back of my head. It-it really hurt. I couldn't see, but there were stars flashing across my eyes, like in those cartoons. I felt like I was g-going to pass out," he began.

Olivia's eyes drew down in confusion before she realized that he was telling her what happened to him. She reached out to grab his hand, and he flinched for a second before taking hers in his own.

The flashes of memory rushed through his mind, like a flashback sequence in a movie with blue filters, choppy edits and blurry effects. He could picture the guy dragging him and throwing him down the alleyway, kicking and punching him, and his own attempt at fighting back. "H-he grabbed me by the b-back of my sweater and p-pulled me over, and he t-tossed me into a b-brick wall. I h-hit my forehead on it," he continued as he brought a hand up to his eyebrow, which had a large gash on it that was still leaking small amounts of blood. "I-I m-managed to turn around and h-hit him a couple times, b-but he was t-too strong. H-he punched me a-and I f-fell over, and he s-started beating the crap out of me."

Liv sat silently, listening to Blaine and squeezing his hand occasionally.

Blaine sniffled, recalling the feeling of cool air hitting his skin as he was being exposed, the sound of the knife slicing his clothes, and the pain. God, the pain. "H-he tore off my clothes. He…" Blaine did not want to say it. Oh, god he so did not want to say it.

"What did he do, Blaine?"

Blaine sobbed in response and shook his head. He couldn't say it. He didn't want to say it. Not yet.

Liv sighed and squeezed his hand again.

Blaine wiped at his eyes, trying to clear his face of the tears that were pouring down it. "When-when he was done, H-he g-got off me and I c-couldn't move. Everything h-hurt, but it f-felt like I was floating and t-time had stopped. B-but then he c-cut open my sweater and I felt the kn-knife," he told her as he recalled the feeling of the sharp blade slowly gliding over his skin, like a paper cut, but a million times worse. "After that h-he just got up and left. I-I s-still couldn't move, but e-eventually I t-tried to get up and c-call for help, but I d-didn't get very far and I f-fell into the d-dumpster. Th-that's when…that's when you…"

He trailed off and stared at her for a moment before looking back down at his lap. When she what? Saved him? Saw him at his most vulnerable? Witnessed the aftermath of the most horrific experience of his life?

"It's okay, Blaine. You can stop now," She told his and patted his knee before standing up. "When the doctor gets here, he'll patch you up so you can go home."

Blaine sat there, eyes still glued to his lap, and still feeling like the world around him was passing him by while he was stuck in a persistent present where he could not feel. This was it. That was everything, right? When something like this happens? He did it by the script. By all those cop shows that he saw. He did everything he was supposed to do. Get the police. Go to the hospital. Do the exam so they can get the evidence. Give a statement. Was there more? Was it really over? Then why did he feel like it wasn't? Why did he still feel so…displaced?

"What do I do now?" Blaine asked desperately, looking back up to the detective. "How do I…?"

Olivia turned, her face that of concerned confusion. "How do you what, Blaine?"

"How do I get back to normal?" He wondered. "It doesn't…nothing feels right. It's wrong. Everything is wrong. How-how do I make it right again?"

Liv sighed, and Blaine could see the pity in her eyes. He felt pathetic. "It's gonna take some time, sweetie," she began, which did not make him feel any better. "You'll go through all the stages of loss several times over. You'll sometimes yell at the people you love and who love you.

"You'll feel dirty, and you'll shower 100 times a day, but it won't make you feel better. You'll still feel disgusting.

"You'll cry. You'll have nightmares. You might have flashbacks or even panic attacks. You'll feel like you can't do it, and you'll hate God or the world or whatever the hell you believe for doing this to you.

"You'll go see a counselor for survivors. It might help. It might not. But regardless you should go see someone.

"Sometimes people might blame you. Some people will say you deserved it or you were asking for it. And one of those people will be you. You will hate yourself and you will blame yourself constantly. But if there is anything that I have learned over the many, many years that I have been in this department, it's that it is never, ever, the fault of the survivor. So let me tell you this now so that you can remember it when you inevitably do blame yourself, Blaine…it is. Not. Your. Fault.

"And believe it or not, you will move forward. I know this is huge right now, but eventually it will just be something that happened to you. It will be a part of you, but it won't be your whole world, and it will make you stronger knowing that you survived this. Knowing that you got out. That you lived. You will be okay, Blaine. I promise."

Blaine was stunned. He didn't really know what he expected from his new guardian angel, but it certainly wasn't that; the brutal honesty of someone who seemed to understand. Who had potentially gone through something similar. He continued to stare at this woman. This wonderful, caring woman who seemed to be strong and powerful, with drive and who knew how to take a stand.

This woman who has lived through terrible things, but appeared to have her life together.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, but as he nodded and wiped them away, he thought he could do this.

He could.

Right?

"Blaine?" he heard from the doorway. The soft whimper of his name from the voice of his fiancé, and the sight of him, still in his work uniform, eyes red and puffy standing out from the porcelain tone of his skin brought him out of his stupor, and everything broke.

His lungs felt like they were seizing inside of him. His right side screamed at him, stabbing and beating his insides. The slur etched upon his skin was on fire, burning as if it had just been doused in alcohol. His head was pounding. His knuckles throbbed. But the thing he felt most was the crushing pain in his heart, and his soul being pulled underwater, drowning in a dark, smothering abyss.

"Kurt," he managed to sob out to him, and within seconds he was in the strong embrace of his fiancé. He could feel the burning of his bruised and battered body, but right now none of that compared to the smell of vanilla and lavender. Or the gentle, loving sound of the voice of his husband to be. Or the feeling of home within his arms.

One day maybe he would be normal again. One day he will be like his new detective friend, strong and powerful and a fighter. One day he will move past this trauma. Maybe one day he will use it to his advantage, to help someone or to create art or something.

One day he could.

But not today. Not right now. Not when everything is so fresh and bleeding and confusing and he just wants to disappear. Vanish. Get lost in the arms of the man he loved.

So he did.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

Reviews? Pweez?


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